"Hazur," began Ahmed, "I am the most unworthy of thy servants. I did but come to visit my good friend the darwan."
"Hazur, he has a lying tongue," interrupted the scandalized darwan. "A friend! Allah slay me if I would ever speak two comfortable words to such a dog."
"Chup!" cried Minghal. "Say on, banijara."
"The darwan has even eaten of my sweetmeats——"
"Perdition light on him!" cried the darwan. "Verily I should choke if——"
"Chup, I say! Make thy story short, dog."
"And when I found him not at the door I made bold to enter. But bethinking me then that the hazur, not knowing of my great friendship with the darwan, might see me and conceive ill thoughts, I feared, and was seeking to slip out when this pig, who has eaten my sweetmeats, set upon me most vilely, as the hazur sees."
"Verily thou art a monstrous liar, banijara," said Minghal. "What of the rope and the hook, and the lathi? What hast thou to say of them, dog?"
"Hazur, what should I know of them; is thy servant a camel-driver?"
Minghal laughed. The trader's explanation was too glib. He wondered what the truth was. Had the man heard of his recent present of rupees and come to rob him? or was there more in it? He looked keenly at Ahmed, and suddenly noticed something strange about his beard. He stepped up to him and, taking it in his hand, began to pull, not too gently. Ahmed protested; it is an insult to a Mohammedan to pluck his beard; but Minghal laughed again, and continued pulling. In the struggle at the door a small portion of the false beard had become detached, and Minghal scented a disguise. He pulled, the beard came away gradually, with no little pain to Ahmed, for the adhesive was a strong one.